


fistiana

by gon



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Boxing, Canonical Character Death, Crushes, Friendship, High School, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gon/pseuds/gon
Summary: sakakura juzo spends his final moments reflecting on his relationship with and feelings for munakata kyosuke.(indefinitely a work in progress)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning that this is incomplete and likely indefinitely incomplete. I'd actually been working on it since before Sakakura's crush was canonized. I have an outline of where I'd like it to go but I just can't work up the will to finish right now. Still, I like it a lot and didn't want what had been written to stay in the archives forever. I think what I wrote is self-contained enough to be enjoyed, even if it is technically unfinished. It was only ever snapshots of MunaSaka anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy.

This is it.

The warmth of his own blood isn't exactly a sensation he's unfamiliar with. Being a natural born fighter, a boxer, his body has never been shy of taking a hit. He grew up with bruises and scars, inside and out—they prove he isn't weak, he says. They don't even hurt, he insists. Like he's some sort of superhuman.

Yes, even lying on the cold, hard floor of this Future Foundation building, blood pouring out of his mouth and out of his gut, Sakakura Juzo feels no pain.

 

1.

It's only the very first day of his new school life at Kibougamine Gakuen when Juzo comes face-to-face with Munakata Kyosuke. Face to face is the literal way to put it, the silver-haired bastard is much too close. His purple eyes prod—more than they pierce—into Juzo's, like he's searching for something, anything, within the man, that he can put to use.

"Sakakura Juzo," Mister No Personal Space says. He enunciates—Sa-ka-ku-ra—cautiously, yet his voice is still weighted with condescension. It makes Juzo scowl; not that a scowl isn't already his set facial expression.

He doesn't give Juzo the chance to ask for his name back. The guy barely misses a beat before he says, "Munakata Kyosuke."

Juzo's pretty sure he wouldn't have asked for his name, anyway.

_I just want to get these three years over with so can chase my dream, full-time, set for life. Pretty sweet being scouted by this place. If only there weren't guys like this one. At least he's got clean breath._

Munakata clears his throat and for a moment Juzo wonders if he'd heard his thoughts.

"Well, Sakakura, I look forward to seeing what you can do," and there goes that expectant glint in his eyes. Goosebumps.

Juzo thinks to himself incredulously, _Aren't we the same age?_ Munakata speaks like he's talking to an employee, not a classmate. Especially not a classmate who was weighted at 90 kg and measured as 185 cm at his most recent physical examination. Juzo could flatten Munakata. The thought is a little entertaining.

Munakata turns confidently, on his heel, unaware of how out of place his behavior seems in a high school setting. Even if it's… _this_ particular high school.

"Wait a second!" Juzo's voice comes out louder than he intended, higher too. "How do you know my name?"

Munakata stops. He doesn't turn around.

"I'm the Super High School Level Student Council President. It's part of my job to know your name."

 

2.

Juzo thinks he's suffering from exhaustion and waking delusions, the first time he sees Munakata sitting ringside. He's sitting there dressed in white, looking like a diamond in a glass case.

Beside him is a girl, chattering excitedly. She points at Juzo and claps her hands together. Juzo had seen her around school, on the rare occasion he actually attended. She trails behind Munakata like an excited puppy, providing warmth and lively emotion to his dry personality and cold appearance.

_Yukizome._ Juzo knows because he'd heard Munakata say it, over and over and over, as he'd scold her during school for being too nosy or being too forward or being too _alive_. Juzo couldn't see how she put up with him, personally. Every other action of his screamed that he was a person only interested in appearances.

Once Juzo saw Munakata smile at Yukizome when she wasn't looking. Sincerely. Can you imagine? That guy, _smiling_ ? _So even he can make that kind of face_ , Juzo thought.

The memory was still vivid. It was like seeing something he shouldn't have.

Juzo realizes where he is and ducks just in time for his opponent's glove to barely miss the skin of his ear.

Knowing he's being watched by those two, feeling annoyed at himself and confused at them, he cuts entertainment short and goes for the knockout.

Ringside, Munakata's legs are crossed and he's staring daggers at Juzo. If he didn't know better, Juzo would think he'd bet money against him in this match.

_Yeah, that might have been a different guy I saw smiling. Or at least, he definitely wouldn't save those expressions for someone like me._

By the time he's finished taking pictures and speaking to the press, Munakata and Yukizome are long gone.

* * *

 

Juzo makes sure to be in school the next day, bright and early, to ask Munakata why he was there. The bastard almost threw him off his game.

He only finds Yukizome. She's tidying up a classroom, humming some familiar tune.

So he stands there, unsure of what to say. He knows _of_ her, but he doesn't actually know _her._ He doesn't have much experience talking to girls, either. Save for his older sisters.

She speaks before he has to.

"Ah! Sakakura-kun! You surprised me. People are never here this early," She resumes her cleaning and humming. It kind of annoys Juzo that with her just being there he feels unsure of what to say and how to behave. Yet, she seems unfazed by him.

"Yesterday, my match..." He begins.

Yukizome looks up and blinks. "Oh! Congratulations! So you saw us after all," she giggles behind her hands. "I told Kyosuke you'd probably noticed."

She puts down her cleaning cloth and wipes her hands on her apron. "That's right, you don't even know me. I'm Yukizome Chisa. Super High School Level Housekeeper at your service!"

She reaches out a hand to shake Juzo's, "Well not exactly at your service. I'm not your personal maid. Clean up after yourself Sakakura-kun!"

Juzo puts out his hand to shake hers, _soft_ , and before he forgets, he asks what he came to ask.

"Er...why were you guys even there?" He looks away and scratches behind his head. Gives his hands something to do.

Juzo's got at least twenty-five centimeters on her so he isn't forced to make eye contact. He silently gives thanks to God—or Buddha, or somefuckingone—for this.

Yukizome looks at him like he's just asked the most obvious question in the world.

"Kyosuke's a fan, silly!"

Juzo stares in disbelief, wanting to bark out a laugh.

"Of boxing? You're kidding….No offense, he doesn't really look like one."

Yukizome turns her back to him and moves to opens the windows.

"Of yours. Kyosuke is a fan _of yours_."

 

3.

"One, two," sweat drips down the tip of Juzo's nose and lands on his upper lip.

More drips from his green hair, now fallen out place from all his movements. Sections stick to his neck and forehead. He punches, they fall back away.

Juzo routinely practices in a gym near his house. The uncle who runs it is a longtime friend of his old man's. It's always been Juzo's place to let off steam, even before he decided he wanted to do this boxing thing for real.

Now, though, the place has seen a bit of a boost in business. It's no secret that the Super High School Level Boxer trains there instead of training with Olympians. An occasional fan shows up every once in awhile. He's never been one for attention, so on a bad day he'll tell them to fuck off, but he doesn't have days like that often. Besides, bringing even just a little more business to the joint isn't a bad thing at all.

This boxing room is his, though. Or at least, that's what he thinks, and the owners don't have the guts to tell him it isn't. It's got that worn in feel. That's the only way Juzo can think to describe it. The scuffs on the floor are _his_ , he remembers when he made them. The torn punching bag in the corner? That's from when he found out his brother died. Juzo didn't go home that night, he went to the gym. He punched the bag so hard that his knuckles bled and the bag burst open, sand and sweat and everything, everywhere.

This room is, quite literally, dyed in Sakakura Juzo.

He's into his second hour of training and his third set of reps when the owner walks in.

Juzo doesn't need to look up, "If you're leaving, don't worry. I have my key, I'll lock up."

"Color me amazed to see you brought it for once," He coughs. "There's someone here to see you."

Juzo sucks his teeth and keeps to his reps, making sure to count the seconds in his head.

"Another fan? I wish you'd tell them I'm busy," he makes sure not to put that too harshly. The guy's done a lot for him all these years, and even Juzo understands being unable to turn a potential customer away from a dying gym.

"He says he goes to your school. That you'd know him. He got out of a really nice car."

Juzo's stomach drops. He loses count.

 

* * *

 

Juzo doesn't get a chance to say whether he actually wants to see the white-haired bastard or not. Munakata walks in almost instantly. What more? He has a gym bag with him.

_Give me a fucking break._

"Sakakura," Munakata bows. "I'll be in your care."

_Wow._ Juzo thinks. _What kind of prank is this?_

"What the hell are you talking about? Is this a joke?" Juzo begins to feel an ache right between his eyes.

Munakata stands up straight and, if Juzo isn't mistaken, begins to turn a faint shade of pink.

One word. "Yukizome."

"Haah?"

Munakata turns his face and covers his mouth. "I asked Yukizome to ask you if it'd be alright… If I could come. Only for a little while, a few minutes, half an hour at most. Clearly you did not receive that request."

He sounds breathless and sincere, and his face is turning redder by the second. It's the first time Juzo realizes, yeah, they are the same age after all.

He whispers under his breath, "I can't believe this."

The first question in Juzo's mind is, _dude, why didn't you just ask me yourself?_ Though for some reason he doesn't want to know the answer. He doesn't even know _why_ he doesn't want to know the answer. Ah, okay, maybe he does know why. He doesn't want to hear that he was too intimidating.

"So you really are a fan?"

He says "fan" like he can't even believe it's a word, especially not a word used to describe Munakata's feelings toward him. Then he wants to kick his own ass for thinking Munakata has any "feelings" toward him. It's all too much, and Juzo can only pray that it'll be over soon.

"Is it so unbelievable?"

Munakata actually looks small, here. Sure, he's always been physically smaller than Juzo, but in school everything else about him is larger than life.

"Yeah, kinda," Juzo can't make eye contact with him for too long.  

Munakata is just _there_. He's out of his element, blush gone and skin looking paler than it usually does, sickly. If Juzo didn't have his own reservations when it came to Munakata, he'd dare crack a joke about it. He'd walk over with a cheeky grin and punch him in the shoulder. Knock the breath out of him to be rewarded with a smile. That's what he'd do if they were, well, if they were friends.

Juzo doesn't want to turn him away, though. He's always been soft that way, if you can believe it. But lifting weights and punching at bags and having Munakata just stare at him is no good. Makes him feel the same unease he felt when he noticed him ringside. Well, if that feeling were multiplied times one thousand.

Remembering the gym bag, Juzo decides to make this just slightly easier. He's always been better at speaking with his body than with his mouth anyway. He stands up from the bench and cracks his neck, trying to feign coolness—and pays no attention to the fact that he's never tried to impress a fan like this before, but maybe this guy could be different—and become that Sakakura Juzo worthy of being acknowledged as the youngest boxer to be at the top of his class.

"So, Super High School Level Student Council President, are you going to just stand there or are you going to show me what you've got?"

 

* * *

 

Surprise.

As soon as Munakata'd gotten changed, Juzo noticed the guy wasn't as weak as he looked. He has a well-defined musculature, not on the level of a pro, but the guy clearly works out. His chest is broader than it looks under his clothes, and Juzo was able to judge from a single glance that if he'd wanted to be a boxer himself he could've been. That was going on body alone. It'd be different once they were actually moving. No amount of athletic genes in the world could make up for lack of coordination and reflexes.

Another surprise.

Munakata is _also_ better at communicating physically. At least, when it comes to communicating with Juzo.

"Are you sure you can keep up? I'm the best you know," Juzo extends his arm for a jab.

" _I know._ And because of that, I can tell you're going easy on me." He moves out of the way, effortlessly. Juzo is impressed with how nimble his movements are becoming. This guy learns fast.

Juzo is surprised, but not challenged. He's pulling his punches because he doesn't want to hurt the guy. The last thing he needs is for the student council president to show up to school with a black eye. He's taken aback at the thought, realizing that he doesn't want to be the cause of bruising on Munakata's face either.

Juzo sucks his teeth and grins, "Well, yeah. I could land a hit any time I want."

He dances on the tips of his toes and swings his hips around. He might be showing off. A bit. But this is more fun than he's had in years, and he's technically doing what he's always done. What he loved— _still loves_ —to do. Though with Munakata, it feels different.

Maybe it's different this time because there's no trainer here shouting in his ear. Maybe it's because there isn't a crowd. Maybe it's because Juzo isn't alone, either; he isn't being given the chance to spend time in his head, psych himself out over things that he has no influence over. Being the youngest and the best can be an alienating position to inhabit. The headspace is an echo chamber.

Or maybe, it's different with Munakata _because_ it's Munakata. Juzo keeps at him, watching his eyes for an indication of the direction he'll move in next. Every so often they make eye contact, and Juzo feels his heart jump. The sensation isn't a high, not exactly, but he wants to know more about it. He wants to know more about Munakata. Munakata's enthusiasm makes up for his lack in skill and his predictable, repetitive movements. Juzo is able to comfortably dodge and move within his proximity and still study his face.

So he does.

The ends of Munakata's hair stick together damply. Juzo's vision trails down his forehead, down to the bridge of his nose where the faintest freckles are scattered. There are probably less than ten and from this distance he could count them. To the bow of his lips, shiny and distracting, which, after Munakata runs his tongue over them become even more shiny and distracting. To his chin, which brings together his narrow and stern yet boyish, features. And so Juzo finds himself back at his eyes, following the path all over again.

After a while, Juzo notices Munakata's movements and reaction time begin to slow. Perfectly understandable, he thinks, even if he's fit there's no way he's got the stamina to keep up with the way he'd been moving for the past…. how long has it been, anyway?

Munakata notices too, and he stops. He lifts his arm to wipe sweat from his brow, and Juzo notices the guy is actually drenched. Maybe he did push Munakata too far. This is a normal workout for Juzo, only aside from the fact that it was with an actual living human being and not a bag. For once! It also provided him with an eyeful. Of what, Juzo isn't sure of. His eyes, once again, are at Munakata's mouth.  

"Shit! It's already after 11!" Juzo watches his mouth say. Strangely enough, he reads Munakata's lips faster than he hears his voice.

 

* * *

 

After showering and changing, Munakata begins to head out.

He bends over to tie his shoes, and he's smiling. Juzo still can't believe he's seen his smile so many times in the course of the past couple of hours. How the simple curve of his mouth, flash of his teeth, light in his eyes...could shatter much of what Juzo once thought about Munakata. He isn't being too hasty, but he now knows that he knows nothing about him. That makes him want to know more.

Neither of them really say much as they wait for Munakata's ride to arrive. It doesn't feel awkward, though. Usually Juzo's mind is clear after working up a sweat, and surprisingly, now is no different.

What breaks the silence is the sound of Munakata's phone. His ringtone is classical music, and Juzo painfully suppresses a chuckle when he realizes that some of his initial judgements about Munakata may have been spot on. No normal sixteen year old has a classical music ringtone unironically. Though, nothing about being a Super High School Level means normal, does it?

"Thank you, Sakakura." Munakata extends his hand.

When Juzo squeezes his palm, Munakata grins, forreal. It's painted across his features like he'd been full to bursting with joy and it's come to the surface all at once. It almost knocks Juzo off his feet when he realizes he doesn't want to let go.

"Come to school more often."

Munakata's eye contact is intense. There's that glimpse of the person Juzo first met.

There's no space for him to answer, Munakata is already hurrying out the door. Besides, that line was delivered like an order.

**Author's Note:**

> I opened myself to you only to be skinned alive. The more vulnerable I became, the faster and more deft your knife. Knowing what was happening, still I stayed and let you carve more. That’s how much I loved you. That’s how much.
> 
> Rabih Alameddine


End file.
